Gears clank and clamor.
Hands have fallen down.
What once chimed and cheered,
now lays silent in the eerie quiet.
We’ve lost the persistent tic.
Spiderweb fractures line the face.
A network of cracks holding hands.
The old tree dried and grey.
Splintering and falling apart.
We’ve lost the persistent tick,
We’ve lost the echoing toc.
Owllight Creations 